Dominated
by shayniie
Summary: The war is over and the 'good side' has lost. Voldemort reigns supreme over the world and can do whatever he wants with those who are left... including one Ginny Weasley. However, his domination of the world is not full-proof, as he will soon find out.
1. I Hate You

Title: Dominated

Author: shayniie

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary: The war is over and the 'good side' has lost. Voldemort reigns supreme over the world and can do whatever he wants with those who are left.

Rating: R (rather high in the first chapter, though it's not smut)

Author's Note: I've taken a liking to fics depicting a post-war scene where Voldemort won... Not to mention I'm feeling rather sadistic.

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**Dominated -- ****Part 1 - I Hate You**

Voldemort smirked down at the young woman who tried to escape him. He placed a pale arm in her way, trapping her between the wall and his tall frame and fully at his mercy. He cupped her chin in his hand, running his thumb down her cheek and leaving a scratched line where his nail had gone. He enjoyed her flinch, how she was so utterly repulsed by him yet could do nothing to get away.

Ever since his army had completely annihilated that of Dumbledore and Harry Potter, he and his Death Eaters had been having their way with those left. Those who were lucky were simply kitchen slaves or cleaning slaves. Others, however, became toys for the higher-ranking officials. All of them, however, had to obey Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself without question. This made it quite easy to control them, and quite pleasurable for him to have fun.

His Death Eaters knew the rules, though. He had a special set of favourite slaves, which they were not allowed to touch. If they did, the punishment would be severe for the responsible party... and the slave, of course. Voldemort had quite a collection of women to attend his every whim, ranging from brunettes to blonds to red-heads; from the prettiest to the less pretty... the most docile to the feistiest.

Currently, he was amusing himself with one of the less attractive of his collection. She was far from as pretty as Angelina Johnson or Katie Bell or Alicia Spinnet, who were his prettiest slaves and also rather rebellious. No, he was having his way with Ginny Weasley, the feistiest.

He slid his hands down to her waist, hearing her whimper as his unnaturally long fingers trapped her hips and any further attempts to avoid him. She tried to kick him, yet with her bare feet only managed to stub her toe on his shin. Voldemort looked down in her eyes, saw the panic in them and smiled cruelly at her. She turned her head, trying to hide behind her long red hair. He reached up and tucked her locks behind her ears.

"Kiss me." He ordered, swooping down to capture her lips in his.

She whimpered and tried to resist the spell that was on her, forcing her to obey. He knew she would not last long and her mental struggle was most pleasurable to watch. It took no more than thirteen seconds for her to lose her inner struggle. Then her lips parted and they tangled tongues, her lust matching his despite her obvious horror at what she was doing.

Voldemort chuckled and drew back, smirking at her horror-filled eyes. One would think that after five years of such events, she would be used to it. His triumph had happened in the Boy-Who-Ended-Up-Dying-Anyway's seventh year at Hogwarts, which meant that the girl had only been sixteen at the time. Now she was twenty-one.

"I hate you." She whispered, tears shining in her eyes as she thought of that day as well.

He knew exactly what she was remembering. She was remembering how he had killed her precious boyfriend Harry Potter with a single spell while he was distracted by her screams as Draco Malfoy had used the Cruciatus Curse on her. She remembered how Draco Malfoy had murdered her brother's girlfriend Hermione Granger, the filthy mudblood, after the battle while the survivors were captive in the dungeons of Hogwarts. She also remembered how he had forced Neville Longbottom, under the Imperius Curse, to kill her brother. The boy had then been submitted to the Cruciatus Curse until he was as mad as his parents.

"You know how much I like it when you say that." He responded, kissing her neck.

She cringed, though she could not move. He kissed in all the right spots, knowing her body was responding despite her best efforts to ignore it. She was covered in a gauzy, thin over-robe in black and a thicker, opaque under-robe, though both showed ample amounts of cleavage and ended just above the knee. It was just enough fabric to cover her bruises and scratches, as Voldemort was far from gentle with his slaves.

"Respond." He ordered as he kissed the exposed the cleavage.

She moaned low in her throat before the spell took over. As he slid the robes off her, her breath caught and he smirked. He picked her up roughly and tossed her onto his silk-covered bed. He then straddled her before she could move and removed his shirt. She took care of his trousers, as she always did when he ordered her to respond. Then he was free and the real fun began.

She liked it. He knew she did. How could she not? He was experienced in such measures and knew exactly where to touch her to get the desired reaction. When he finally reached his peak, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back beside her.

She obviously thought he was done with her and tried to slide off the bed. However, he was not. He grabbed her roughly around the hip; his nails biting into her skin and making her bite her lip against the pain. He pulled her to his side and she turned her back on him. He rolled onto his side, rendering her quite uncomfortable with the positioning of certain of his parts in relation to hers. She squirmed and he ran his nails up and down her side, breaking the skin occasionally until she stayed still.

Now Voldemort was bored with her.

"Go." He ordered.

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A/N: A short first part, true, but I want to keep myself from doing my strange character/time changing thing like I did for Ripples of Magic. 

Expect another part soon; reviews may convince me to write faster. (hint hint) However, there are no promises.


	2. Why Am I Here?

A/N: In response to pyroyellowfrog's review: Voldemort's a powerful wizard, so I imagine he wouldn't let old age stand in his way. Perhaps he invented wizard Viagra, perhaps he took the body of a twenty year old when he return or maybe he is so close to immortality that he does not age. Take your pick, they all work and are all rather amusing.

Draco Malfoy looked down at the concubines from the balcony overlooking their quarters. The green- and black-robed women and men did not have any privacy. Their entire living area was surrounded by balconies from which the Death Eaters could watch them. Obviously, the men were separated from the women. No need to have the bad blooded breed with each other.

Those clothed in black were strictly off-limits. Those half-dozen women were Voldemort's and Voldemort's alone. The green, however, were fair play for anyone. Those with a mix of green and black were only for officers, such as Draco. The women and men were not limited to a certain gender. Women could fetch women, men could have other men. However, the concubines were all above the age of sixteen. Below that and it was possible to harm them beyond repair, or drive them to suicide.

He descended a set of stairs to the women, who all shrank back in fear. Except for the black-robed, of course, as they only had Voldemort to fear and answer to. He found, not for the first time, that he could not meet any of their eyes. Thus, he looked over their heads in superiority. He knew who he wanted, after all.

A pretty brunette, not the most lavish of them all, with startling pale blue eyes, was his target. Her name was Rose Zeller, a young woman who had just turned nineteen and been moved from the kitchen staff. Her head hung low, avoiding his eyes like a proper slave. He winced inwardly. She had not even finished her third year of schooling at Hogwarts before being made a slave.

"Come with me." He whispered when he reached her.

She looked up at him with her pale eyes wide in sheer horror. She had just been transferred that morning, after all. Draco turned away and walked back towards the stairs. He heard her bare feet scuffling after him and sighed slightly in relief. Little did she know it that she was better off with him than with any other Death Eater.

She followed him like a loyal puppy all the way to his rooms, just like he knew she would. She was – had been, he corrected himself – a Hufflepuff, who were all known for their loyalty. When the door clicked closed, she watched him fearfully. Draco walked to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sat down, motioning her to the other.

She did not move, staying frozen by the door.

He turned irritably, "I'm not going to force you to do anything, girl. I'm not like any of the others, you'll soon see."

"Then why am I here?" She demanded, still staying put.

"I'm going to teach you Occlumency, so you can hide your thoughts from Voldemort. I'm also going to ask to have you be my personal servant – which I was promised long ago, yet never found anyone I wanted." He explained.

She glared at him, "Oh, so you won't rape me now but you'll do so later when you're sure nobody else will be able to?"

He muttered a few curses under his breath. "Sit." He ordered, knowing she would have to obey, and continued, "I won't ever rape you, girl. I'm going to claim you as my personal servant to _protect_ you. All you'll have to do is clean these rooms from time to time."

The girl sat in the chair, glaring at him, and crossed her slender legs. Draco had to admit that she was lucky that he had been told about her transfer before the others. She was attractive in many ways, though far from the prettiest. She had a nice body, though her breasts were smaller than quite a few others' and her arse was as well. However, she would have been eagerly snapped up; especially because she was still a virgin.

"Now, stay put." He ordered, standing up and walking to the door.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"To arrange my 'ownership' of you," He answered irritably.

"I'm nobody's possession." She growled, more to herself than to him.

"No, but the entire world is dominated by Voldemort... so you – we all – technically belong to him." He muttered back, exiting the room.

He closed the door behind him and muttered a locking charm on top of the usual protections. He then walked down the hall to Voldemort's suite. Just as he entered, a red-headed someone ran out. Draco bumped into the girl and she fell to the ground, her frail form crumpled on the ground. He stared down at her in shock.

"Weaslette?" He said.

She glared up at him, "Watch where you're going, Ferret." She snapped, stood again and shoved past him.

He stared after her. He had thought Ginny Weasley was dead, yet here she was in Voldemort's rooms; dressed in black. If he had known... he wouldn't have been able to do anything different, he knew, if Ginny had been Voldemort's slave since the beginning. That would explain why he had not known of her survival, as Voldemort guarded his most favourite slaves with a jealousy that was legendary.

He entered the sitting room of the suite after knocking. Voldemort was lounging in a chair by the fireplace. The Dark Lord's snake-like face was locked on the flames in one of his numerous pensive moments. Draco reflected for a moment on how young his master looked despite having died and come back to life and being over seventy. However, lines were now starting to form on his face.

"Come to redeem your personal slaves?" His master asked at length.

Draco nodded, "Yes, well... one of them." He replied.

"You remember that I offered you three." Voldemort stated after another pause, "So... who do you want?"

"Rose Zeller." The official stated.

"The newly transferred girl?" His master questioned and then nodded slowly, "Very well."

"Thank you, my lord." Draco murmured and retreated from the room.

Draco Malfoy was extremely thankful in that moment that Severus Snape had taught him Occlumency before he was killed by Voldemort prior to the war. He could hide his plans with Rose and his shock at seeing Ginny alive after so long. Not to mention his eventual plans... to overthrow the son of a bitch and get his payback for all the pain the bastard had caused.


	3. He's Actually Rather Gentle

A/N: Here's part three. Thanks for the reviews... Yes, I am aware this chapter is rather weird. I'll do better for the next chapter, which I won't write so late at night.

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Ginny Weasley felt soiled, dirtied beyond all reason. The feeling was always more intense when she had just been forced to... she refused to think about it. She rubbed her arms and nearly ran back to her quarters. For all that the slaves were allowed free reign of the castle-like manor, they had no wands and were often watched. Some were given more privacy, but most had to use the slave bathrooms which were little more than pits and the most rudimentary of plumbing. However, Voldemort's personal slaves were given a more lavish bathroom, for which Ginny was currently very grateful.

She wrenched open the door, which recognized the half-dozen women who answered only to the Dark Lord, and entered the black and green marble bathroom. She slid in with a sob and leaned back against the door. She gritted her teeth and pushed away, taking off her robes without any care as to tearing them. Voldemort owned the world; he could get new robes faster than she could say she needed them. She let the water run in one of the huge bathtubs and slid in when it was less than half full, eager to feel clean again.

The water was made to be soapy, so by the time it was at the right level a layer of foam had added about half a foot to the overall height of the water in the tub. She leaned her head back with a grateful sigh as she felt her scratches burn with the soap, telling her they were being cleaned. She was just getting ready to settle down to a nice long bath when the door opened and another woman staggered in.

Like Ginny, she too leaned against the door with tears in her eyes before going straight to another tub, discarding her clothes as she went.

"Ange," Ginny greeted solemnly from the mound of soapsuds.

"Gin," The other women replied with a sob catching in her throat.

Ginny bit her lip. Obviously Angelina was still stricken by the loss of Fred, whom everyone believed was dead. Ginny refused to give up completely. She knew Ron was dead; she refused to believe all five of the others were dead as well. She blinked forcefully and grabbed a scrubbing sponge and some soap, not wanting to be stuck in Angelina's forced company any more.

She finished quickly and dried off before sliding into her robes again, which were remarkably not ripped. "Bye." She murmured, hearing Angelina reply in kind, before leaving again.

Ginny entered into the Pit, where the slaves lived. Different types of slaves had different pits to live in, but they all followed the same general plan: men in one half, women in the other, with a glass wall separating the two; completely open for everyone to see the goings on. The pecking order was identical as well: Voldemort's special slaves, personal official's slaves, general official's slaves and then general slaves. Of course, the personal official's slaves were never in the Pit. In a way, Ginny envied them, except Draco Malfoy's slaves... she wouldn't be one of them if it was her last chance at life.

Luna Lovegood, clothed in green and black, appeared at Ginny's elbow, "Gin, Draco's taken Rose." She said quickly.

Ginny looked at her, "What do I care if Draco has taken a rose?" She demanded sharply.

"No, he's taken Rose Zeller. She had just gotten transferred over from kitchen staff today." Luna explained, "She was in Hufflepuff, three years below us."

"She's only nineteen?" Ginny exclaimed, aghast.

"And he snapped her up before anyone else knew she was here." Luna responded.

Ginny's eyes flashed. "Superior bastard," She muttered, "How _dare_ he take her?"

"He's rather experienced." Luna said without the slightest trace of blushing, "He's actually rather gentle-"

"Luna, do yourself a favour and be quiet before I decided to slap some sense into you." The red-head muttered crossly.

"It wouldn't surprise me if he were plotting against his own master." Luna murmured.

Ginny stared at her, her mouth wide and gaping, but could not muster up a response in time.

"Lovegood." Blaise Zabini commanded, motioning commandingly from the stairs.

Luna went to him without giving Ginny a chance to reply. She was under strict orders not to leave her area, which was reserved for the three higher ranks, which comprised less than an eighth of the total concubine population. However, it took up a third of the pit and was made of elegant marble. Most of the others preferred to be on the other side, but Luna stayed with Ginny, something for which she was very grateful.

Now that she was left to her own devices, Ginny started feeling rather bored. She sat on her floor palette and lay back for a nap. However, a girl came scurrying towards her before she could do anything more than lie down.

"You're Ginny Weasley, correct?" The girl asked, sitting nervously on the palette beside Ginny's – which belonged to Luna.

Ginny nodded and looked curiously at the girl, a brunette with blue eyes. She looked rather young to be an official's personal slave... which meant that she must be Rose Zeller.

"Draco Malfoy sent me to see you. He said to tell you that he's going to 'kill that son of a bitch and make him pay for what he did to the Weasleys'." With that, the girl was gone again.

Ginny stared at the stairs the girl climbed in record time. Draco Malfoy had sent her to inform Ginny of his plans to overthrow Voldemort? But why her? She smiled suddenly. Draco knew that she had access to the entire manor. A more important question was: why Draco? Why did the former so-called Prince of Slytherin plan to overthrow his master in revenge for Ginny's family?

She closed her eyes. She would never be able to understand Draco Malfoy; no matter how long she knew him or how hard she tried. He was just too cold, too distant and too sly. Not to mention he was lucky that she knew Occlumency.


	4. How Does It Feel?

A/N: This chapter's a little more sadistic (and shorter) than the others, I find.

Sorry for the long wait, it just took me a while to find out what to do to make the plot move along. I already have a plan for the following chapters, so please be patient with me.

Again, I apologize for the shortness of these chapters. That's just the way this story is moving along. Just think of it as being a many many chaptered story in the end, though I doubt it will be novel-length.

A great many thanks to my reviewers, your compliments are the reason I keep writing this evil story... That and the fact that this plot bunny has vampiric teeth and was gnashing them threateningly at me lately.

Un-beta'd, as usual, though Word has not found any mistakes.

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"How does it feel, pet?" Voldemort hissed, scratching up along the inside of her thigh with a sharp fingernail, "How does it feel to be completely owned?"

She did not answer; too busy trying to ease the pain of his newest marks. He smirked cruelly. His brandings would not vanish nor cease to burn anytime soon and, when they did, she would tear them open again in a fit of self-loathing.

"No, really, pet, I want to know." He pressed, grabbing her chin and forcing her to face him.

She winced and then forced her facial feature into apathy. He dug his nails into her chin and pinched her most sensitive spot, making her gasp in pain.

"Tell me," he commanded, "tell me what it's like to be dominated to be my slave and have no hope of escape."

When she did not answer yet again, he grabbed a fistful of her curly red hair and pulled at the same time he pinched. She screamed and he smiled evilly.

"Or do you like the pain?" He asked softly, brushing his lips against her ear, "The pain makes you feel closer to them, doesn't it? It makes you feel like you'll die soon and get to join them."

He made her cry out in pain twice more when she managed not to answer despite the magic forcing her to answer. She whimpered and he scoffed openly.

"If only they could see you now." he hissed, then repeated it in Parseltongue, enjoying her shiver of revulsion, "If only your brothers, your parents... and your dear Harry, of course, could see you now."

She was crying now, even as he left her and got off the bed. He walked to the fireplace, turning his back to her as he did so. He picked his wand up off the mantelpiece and flicked it, Summoning a black bathrobe. He slid it on and turned to look at her. She was helpless, broken and sobbing, now sitting pathetically on the bed.

"If only they could see their darling Ginny Weasley now." He whispered menacingly.

She stared at him with a suddenly hollow gaze. All the fire, the spirit she had had, was gone now. Voldemort laughed. It appeared he had broken another toy... pity, seeing as she had been most fun to break and bleed.

"Oh dear, whatever shall I do with you now?" He murmured mockingly, "You're no fun if you cry..."

A small ghost of a glint of comprehension shot through her brown eyes; a last hope, perhaps? She did not think he would let her go back to her fellow captives and tell them how to bore him, now did she? She was horribly mistaken if she did, that was certain. He would have to watch what he said more carefully now.

He frowned, "I can't have you running about with a loose tongue, kitten. You should know that by now."

Her eyes widened. He rarely called her anything. Sometimes 'girl' and he called his slaves 'pet' only when he knew they were breaking. 'Kitten', however had only been used twice before: when he had announced the fate of the prettier and younger captives and when he had killed the spying Narcissa Malfoy. The girl had a good reason to be terrified.

"But you _want_ to die, don't you, kitten?" He continued, amused by her horrified expression, "So we can't have that..."

She was now clutching the bed sheets to her form, shivering and shaking with fright. The sheets, wrapped so tightly around her underfed form, collected the blood of her fresh wounds. She was prettiest when cut and freshly shagged, he mused. No wonder he had not disposed of her until she broke, even if she was annoying at times.

With obvious malicious intent, he beckoned to her with a crooked finger. Despite her earlier silent defiance, she could not disobey a physical order. So she walked jerkily across the room to his side, her eyes wide with anxiety and fear of what would come.

"How to keep a tongue from loosening?" Voldemort asked himself, forcing her to look at him with a long-fingered hand and a cruel smile tugging at the sides of his mouth.

She whimpered and tried to shrink back, but her grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. She pulled the sheet up to her mouth with two clenched fists, oblivious to the nice view he was getting of her bony curves that were still pleasantly shaped despite her lack of proper nourishment. She was absolutely terrified with the mere notion of having her tongue cut out.

"However, that would make you unable to scream pleas and names..." He added, amused that she sighed so audibly in relief.

He smirked at her and she closed her eyes in terror. Or was it to hide from his sinister appearance? He was insulted to say the least. Voldemort was not pleasant to cross at any time, but when he was insulted... Well, he tended to leave behind all reason.

"Then again, screaming is not all that pleasant. Silent horror works as well." He finished.

Her eyes widened yet again. It was rather impressive to see the little red-head's eyes swell to the size of teacups due to her own imagination. He would not cut out her tongue, that would render her completely useless to his Death Eater's pleasures. No, he would remove her voice. Not just a silencing charm, oh no, those could be easily broken.

He conjured up a pair of manacles for her wrists and clasped her bony wrists with the harsh metal. It would chafe and cut her, but that was part of the fun. He put an arm around her waist and proceeded to forcefully drag her to his personal potion room, which was down a flight of stairs. She squirmed pathetically and he dug his nails into her arm. She stopped.

Once in the potion room, he brought her to the wall. He pinned her against the wall and chained her to a metal rod attached firmly to the stone. He had used the same room to torture his last kitten, though she had been allowed to die in the end. He would not be so generous this time. He bit down on her lip in a cruel version of a kiss before proceeding through the massive shelves of potion ingredients.

"There is no potion in existance that can do this for me, but fear not, kitten. If Lord Voldemort can fashion a way to bring himself back from the dead, he can surely manage this."


End file.
